


A Beautiful Coincidence

by IamJohnLocked4life



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221 ABC, 221B Ficlet, F/F, Poncho Lady is credited as Beautiful Woman in ASiB, but Heim and I call her Poncho Lady, it's the Battersea lady
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 03:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6548911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IamJohnLocked4life/pseuds/IamJohnLocked4life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>221 ABC for Heimish's Birthday ~ A Birthday Card ♥</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beautiful Coincidence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meretriciovs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meretriciovs/gifts).



 

The sleek black car stops at 221. A statuesque brunette glides out, all confidence and grace, albeit a distracted sort of grace. Her eyes don’t leave her Blackberry, and she nearly bumps into the figure currently occupying the space by the fence. _Her_ place. She tears her eyes away from the screen, prepared to glare at the interloper, but her gaze softens as it moves up shapely legs and impeccably tailored skirt, landing on sharp eyes and an identical screen framed by tastefully-manicured fingers. Intriguing.

She clears her throat, drawing a flicker of interest before the woman returns to her Blackberry.

“Waiting for someone?” The woman gives a noncommittal hum, but shifts her weight to make room beside her. They type, wrought iron cool at their backs, brushing elbows a shimmer of heat.

_Buzz_. Two sets of hands vibrate as their devices hum in sync. They exchange a wry glance.

**The captain is off-base.** **—MH**

**The doctor isn’t taking home visits. Pity.**

Twin sighs fill the silence. Both women break into knowing smirks.

“At least we don’t have to fend off lame pickup lines.”

“You too?” A huff of laughter.

She smiles at her companion.

“So… _do_ you get any free time?”

Sculpted eyebrows raise, but warm brown eyes reveal definite interest.

“Schedule just cleared.” The woman offers a hand. “Anthea.”

 

* * *

 

The whiskey is smooth and strong. A few fingers in and she can already feel heat spreading through her body, tingling her extremities and rushing to her face. Anthea’s caramel complexion glows bronze in the low light, no hint of that embarrassing pink surely staining her own cheeks. No idea why she’s suddenly self-conscious amid the easy flow of conversation; perhaps it’s the slide of ankles and calves beneath the small table. Still. She’s always calm and collected, coolly distant. Somehow this woman has managed what powerbrokers and royalty and a professional dominatrix could not. They play with their drinks, eyes locked and fingertips brushing, the air thick with potential.

“Anything else I can get you two?”

Anthea licks her lips, not breaking their gaze. “Which way to the Ladies?”

“Down the hall, second door on your left.”

Anthea rises, trailing her fingers over pale exposed skin, a lingering caress. A brow quirked in silent inquiry.

She follows the poised silhouette, admires the view from behind, fights to keep her steps even and measured.

Through the door, a click of the lock and she’s pressed against the wall, Anthea’s mouth hot and wet against hers. Lips full of smoky burn and unvoiced secrets, rough and filthy and perfect.

_Buzz._

Anthea pulls back, panting, looks to her pocket with a grimace.

“Bastard.” 

 

* * *

 

She actually uses the loo, while Anthea checks her still flawless makeup. She touches a finger to the lining of her knickers, soaked through like a teenager. _Christ._

A deafening flush, and she exits the stall to find the room empty. She washes up quickly, straightens her shawl, smoothes down her hair. Her lipstick is faded but unsmudged. Good enough.

Back at their table, Anthea is typing away with fierce concentration, a crease between her brows. As she approaches, Anthea stands and moves towards the door, eyes never leaving her screen.

“Running out on the bill?” she teases, forced levity to mask her disappointment.

“Taken care of.” Anthea’s already half out the door, leaving her standing alone at the table. She gulps the last of her whiskey and hurries to catch up. She reaches Anthea just as a black car pulls up to the kerb. It’s all moving too fast, she can feel her slipping away, and she doesn’t know how to stop it, but she has to try.

“Do you think…” The words die in her throat as Anthea thrusts a Blackberry in her hands, pulling another from her pocket.

“Nicked it in the loo.” A sly grin. “Updated your contacts.” Soft lips brush her ear. “Text me when you get off.”

Then she’s gone, disappearing into the waiting car.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY HEIM!!! I hope I did Poncho Lady justice ♥
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://iamjohnlocked4life.tumblr.com/) ~ Please say hi, I love to chat!


End file.
